Why can't you see, what you're doing to me?
by KK94
Summary: We all know that Quirrellmort cared, but what if they refused to declare their love? What if they stayed friends and it was slowly tearing them apart? And what if they were introduced to a certain song from a musical describing their life with such accuracy? Warning, Angst. Do not expect happy endings. Pure love and heartbreak. No smut this time guys, sorry.


(**Quirrellmort song-fic, based on the song 'Harry' from A Very Potter Musical. I own nothing except the words I substituted, everything else belongs to Starkid. Warning: - It will be angsty. Nothing too terrible, just genuine heartbreak. I'd say enjoy but... yeah. So i'll just say 'Feel the Emotions. :/ )**

Their friendship was OK. And since OK is wonderful, nothing changed between them.

Harry Potter now owned the school, it was written in Dumbledore's will. (Ron was left his best catchphrases, which delighted the Ginger. Hermione was left the entire book system, which she loved. She was also left the school's entire supply of plain paper and crayons. She resisted the urge to resurrect the bastard and kill him again.) His first act of owner of Hogwarts was to appoint himself headmaster, even though he was only thirteen now. Ron would be deputy head and Hermione would be Muggle Studies teacher. When Voldemort gave friendly brotherly advice to Quirrell that he should approach Harry for a new job, having both himself and the previous defence against the dark arts teacher talk to the headmaster, he thought it was preposterous.

Surprisingly, it went really well. From what Voldemort told him later. As it was from his point of view, after the fifth cruciatus curse from the boy, he had passed out. Voldemort had tried to stand in the way as a human shield, but the ginger and the Mudbl- Muggleborn had bound him while he begged and pleaded. So he passed out, and when he woke up, he had a new job, paid, as the Herbology teacher. Although the three of them would never admit it, they had both become friends with Harry as well.

So, a month after leaving Azkaban, Quirrell had himself permanent accommodation nearby the Hogwarts grounds which he shared with his roomy and best friend, Voldemort. Voldy, incidentally, worked as a receptionist for one of the businesses up Hogsmeade. Their house was even decorated with flowers and snakes! Life was OK.

But behind the extreme contentedness the two roommates had created for each other, there was one thing that was stopping this from being absolutely perfect. That would be the undeniable layers of deep unconditional love that both of the boys felt for each other. They hang out, watched movies, fought verbally, fought physically as best friends did, and had a brilliant friendship. Late at night, however, when they climbed into their separate beds, all each boy could dream about was holding the other, kissing the other, touching the other in rather obscure places. Everyone could see how much Quirrell loved Voldemort, and vice versa, even the students. The only people that couldn't see were themselves.

A year had passed, exactly, and the feelings had only grown stronger. It was May, and the sun was at it's hottest point. The new phenomenon that the students were talking about all of the time was this musical made from some american University students, which portrayed their lives all too scarily, although they focused more on Harry than they did on anyone else. Quirrell had finished teaching them what they needed to know for that year, so he spent a lot of the time talking to the students about this musical, until one of them showed the clip of Voldemort and Quirrell together. Boy, had he laughed.

That night, he forced Voldemort to sit there and watch it with him. He shouted how awfully accurate it was, minus the singing, but deep down Quirrell knew it amused him. He could see it in his eyes. Quirrell absolutely LOVED the musical. The songs were amazing and portrayed the story well, and he'd especially loved 'Voldemort is going down!'. Voldy was not impressed.

Behind all of the musical though, there was one song that caught his heart the most though, not because it portrayed what had happened two years ago, but because it portrayed exactly how he felt now. It was 'Harry'. Yes, it's corny that the song is based on his best friend's ex rival, but the music itself was such a smooth, slow and soothing tempo, the lyrics straight from the heart and it generally showed such a raw and rare emotion. After extensive research, he found that the song was actually a parody of a song that they had used in a previous show called 'Little White Lie." That song, was called 'Sami'. He noted that the song 'Sami' seemed somewhat unfinished when sang, whereas 'Harry' didn't seem long enough. Accidentally Youtubing too much while Quirrell was at his job, he found a clip of the actors from said musical performing at a tour that predicted the end of the world. It all made sense when he heard the two songs together.

That was how, just two months later, over the summer holidays, Quirrell found himself in front of a piano, able to play the song combined just by ear.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had spent a lot of time listening to the songs on Youtube and learning them off by heart. Especially 'Different as can be'. I mean, it portrayed them both so frigging well it was unbelievable! He even started writing his own lyrics down, as parodies of the songs for the parodies of their lives. The reason? Because Harry Freakin Potter constantly kept sending him emails of the actors and actresses singing 'Voldemort is goin down' live, onstage, offstage, fans singing it... badly sometimes. That had made him get revenge and re-write a song so that he was the one in the bad light.

On a Monday in July, Voldemort had decided to surprise his friend with a suprise visit, and a new DVD to watch, but he wasn't home. He knew he'd be in Hogwarts, but where exactly was the mystery. For a second, he was tempted to ask Harry for his map which showed the location of all people within Hogwarts grounds. After last time, he knew NOT to ask for a favor off Harry. So he went hunting manually.

Quirrell was playing random tunes on the piano to warm up, just having general fun. He didn't want to be found playing, and since that was the case, he'd borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak for this one occasion. Eventually, however, he found himself playing the familar tune of that one song.

Hearing music, Voldemort followed the sound. Unfamiliar music filled the corridor. He tried the door, but it was locked, and he couldn't be arsed with 'alohamoring' it. Instead, he just leaned against the wall, listening as the tune turned into... something he had heard before. Something that every time he heard, he couldn't help but think of his best friend.

Both Voldemort and Quirrell, both not knowing the other was there, sang along to the verse. As Quirrell stared at the keys and sang, he could see Voldemort smirking in the back of his mind. Voldemort himself closed his eyes, seeing his version of his squirrel, the most perfect person in the universe.

"_The way his hair falls in his eyes, makes me wonder if he'll_  
_Ever see through my disguise_."

Voldemort's voice cracked and he couldn't continue singing for a second. It hit hard how much he cared for the guy he was thinking of, and how he could never get him.

"_And I'm under his spell_." Quirrell sang this line with a small smile. It was true, he was obsessed with the ex Dark Lord, not even the imperious curse could stop that.

"_Everything is falling, and I don't know where to land_." The high notes were easy to reach for someone with a voice like Quirrell's. It was soft against the loud piano. But the line itself caused the smile to go from his face, and he sighed the next line. Tears started forming, threatening to spill.

"_Everyone knows who he is._"

Sobs fell silently out of the young boys mouth. He couldn't finish the last line, neither could he continue singing. He could only play as the tears came, one after the other.

Outside, Voldemort sang the truth. "_Only he knows who I really am_."

He opened his eyes, swallowing as the piano continued playing the second verse. He'd never get the chance to sing this song to Quirrell, but there was no harm in singing what he really felt for him. A part of him thought it would mke it ll go away, another thinking that maybe, somehow, Wizard God would hear and paiir the two up somehow. Whatever it was, he straightened up off of the wall and continued singing in the same tune as the first verse, straight from the heart. It came out Powerful and loud. The first line he meant with all of his heart, the second he met with a sly smirk.

"_He's beautiful, smart, kind and cool, and I never want to see_  
_Him shout or cry ever again, unless it's my name obviously_."

As Quirrell played, he raised his head. He could hear singing. Clear, loud as day, singing. They were really good too! In shock, he continued playing, wanting to hear the end of his verse.

"_He's my very best friend, I really want him to know_  
_I'm in love with you sweet Squirrel. And that love can only grow._"

It was Voldemort's turn to start shedding tears. The music stopped and he heard a voice call out. Deciding it was best to stay hidden, Voldemort didn't response.

Wide eyed, Quirrell had stopped at the name Squirrel. It couldn't be...? However, when the voice didn't reply, he shrugged. Using his sleeve, Quirrell wiped his eyes, determined to get through this. He continued where he left off, singing so softly that no one could hear.

"_Voldy. Voldy. Why can't you see, what you're doing to me_?"

Why couldn't he see? He was the all powerful Dark Lord, he was such an amazing wizard, so why couldn't he just look in his mind and see all of these emotions crashing over one another.

Swaying, Voldemort listened to the music continue, and someone sing so softly that the words were indistinguishable For the first time, he wondered if all of this, the singing and the music was all just in his head. It would make sense, explaining why the music was so damn perfect. Yes, that had to be it, he thought. He continued swaying, listening to what his subconscious wanted to say.

Confidence was something naturally Quirrell didn't own, and it took a few loops of the beginning for him to start singing the verse he had written. Shivering, he poured his soul into the words, making them that little bit louder.

_"The way his lies at night in bed, makes me wonder if he_  
_Ever thinks of her instead, Bellatrix Lestrange not me._  
_I feel so nervous, and my heart falls to the ground_  
_When I think of that beautiful Dark Lord, i'm just so glad he's around._"

That HAD to be a part of his imagination. It couldn't be Quirrell in there. How could it be that the one person he was thinking about at that exact moment as playing and singing a verse he had written himself just as Voldemort had. Nevertheless, imaginary-Quirrell's words made him feel... so ecstatically happy. Enough so, that he sang the chorus with him, in harmony, the two names being spoke simultaneously.

"_Voldy-Quirrell, Voldy-Quirrell_  
_Why can't you see, what you're doing to me_."

Their voices combined in harmony were too perfect for it to be real, in Quirrell's eyes, so he too thought it was a part of his imagination. A part of him wondered why a figment of his imagination was singing such kind, sweet words when his conscience absolutely hated who he was, but he wasn't about to question anything his Voldemort did.

"_I've seen you conquer certain death_" Quirrell sang, laughing a bit. After all, if it wasn't for those damn horcruxes, Voldemort would be dead right now.

A laugh emitted from Voldemort's mouth when he heard his Quirrell sang that, and joined in with a smile.

"_And even when you're just standing there you take away my breath!_!"

Once again, the harmonies were beautiful. So beautiful that for a second, Quirrell just played and let the Voldemort of his imagination sing alone just to listen to that slightly rugged voice with a melancholy sadness.

"_And maybe, someday you'll hear this song and realize that all along_"

Feelings tumbled through Quirrell's stomach, and he couldn't help joining in, singing loud and powerfully, trying to convey the feelings inside. As he held the note, silent tears fell.

"_There's something more than i'm trying to say_!"

Leaning against the wall, Voldemort sighed the next words words a bit early, wanting to sing along with the amazing Quirrell in his head at the chorus. That contrasted to Quirrell's singing, which was completely in tune and held with strength beautifully.

"_When I say..._  
_When I say_!"

Taking a deep breath, clenched his stomach muscles to sing out the over pouring emotions as loud as possible.

"_Quirrell_"

For a second, Quirrell forgot himself and used Voldemort's proper name, the one that no-one had used since Dumbledore back in his Hogwarts years. He said it was such love, because that name was a part of the guy who meant the world to him. He sang his name slightly behind his Voldemort, similar to how the people had sang on that tour for the apocalypse.

"_Tommy!_!"

Wait, did my Quirrell just call me Tommy? Voldemort smirked, shaking his head. Well... two can play at this game.

"_Baby!_!"

Smiling, a small giggle came out of his mouth. Trust his idiot to try and outdo him, to embarrass him in this way. Right now, he thought it was just adorable. He sighed the word quietly, lovingly. "_Voldy._"

"_Why can't you see, what you're doing to me._" Both the harmonies and the music turned slowly quiete and, incidentally, sadder. For the final line, both sang to no music, due to the fact that Quirrell was resting his head on the piano and weeping. However, Voldemort did not mind at all. The black hole n his heart was sucking out all of the happy emotion in his heart.

"_What you're doing... to me_."

Deciding the song needed something to finish, he played the last notes, held them for a second, before letting go completely. He crossed his arms against the piano and sobbed away.

Voldemort thought he could hear crying. Silently, he muttered the spell to unlock the door. However, as he saw before, there was no one in the room.

Had Quirrell chosen to acknowledge the sounds of the door opening, he would have seen a concerned and slightly crying himself Voldemort, poking his head around the door. But, unfortunately, he had missed it and he withdraw his head.

Had Voldemort stayed in the room for literally five seconds later, he would have seen the invisibility clock slip, revealing Quirrell's head and shoulders He didn't notice for a few seconds, before noticing and pulling it back round, nervously glancing to see if anyone had seen. Unfortunately, Voldemort didn't.

Well... there was no use standing around all day. He continued his search for Quirrell, deciding to head to the library. He tried to block out the entire incident, he didn't want his best friend to see him upset after all.

Wiping his eyes, Quirrell slowly got up and stepped away from the piano. He had spent way too long away doing something non-productive. After all, he had a bunch of essays to mark, so he stepped out of the room, heading in the opposite direction that Quirrell did.

Eventually the two boys caught up, five hours later. Best game of hide and seek ever. Both had made a secret pact never to reveal the events of today, and neither spoke a word to their friend.

* * *

**Fifteen years later**

"Hey daddy! Hey Uncle Quirrell!" A young five year old boy with pale skin and black hair entered the room, jumping onto Voldemort, who grinned at his son with pure love in his eyes. Quirrell also laughed and ruffled Toby' hair. A few seconds later, a black haired beauty, Toby's mother and Voldemort's girlfriend of nine years, entered and gave her boyfriend a passionate kiss. That caused Quirrell to move from the room and sit down next to his husband of eleven years.

Did they both have feelings for each other still? Completely and totally, so much so that sometimes they couldn't stand the lives they had created. But they were too cowardly to act on their feelings, and other opportunities had arisen. It had been time to move on. But it didn't mean they ever, truly did.

"So, what you doing, Tom Tom?" She said in a deep voice, sitting down next to her boyfriend on the sofa and wrapping both arms around him.

"We're just finishing watching the latest 'Very Potter Musical'." Voldemort grinned at Quirrell as they appeared on the screen. Both boys laughed at the idea of them adopting a child.

"I don't know why you watch this, Quirinus. It's stupid and pointless." The bloke with blonde hair and an earring snuggled closer to his love, rolling his eyes at the idea of Voldemort and Quirrell still attached.

"Shush!" Rather angrily, he pulled away for a second to focus on the last monologue.

As they listened to the speech that screen-Voldemort spoke, both boys became very serious. Because every bit of it was true, Harry did teach Voldemort that killing was a bad idea, and neither of the boys wanted to murder the scarred kid. At the line 'He taught me how to love', Voldemort looked down, blinking rapidly, whereas Quirrell openly let his tears roll down his face, fist in mouth. Both were crying because the ending was so happy, but their lives were so sad. Because... it seemed like their Voldemort and Quirrell got together.

The credits came up and Quirrell sniffed. Voldemort's girlfriend and Quirrell's husband decided to go and make food, being well acquainted with each other after so many years.

"While they're gone, let's put the song-list on!" Voldemort suggested, laughing.

Toby jumped up and down again and again. "Yeah! YEAH YEAH!"

Laughing, Quirrell put on the full soundtrack of the three musicals on shuffle and pressed play. Whilst lunch was being cooked, they listened to 'Get Back to Hogwarts', 'Days of Summer', 'Everything Ends' and 'Senior Year'.

After a while, 'Harry' came on. Voldemort was dancing, holding Toby's hand in one and Quirrell's shaking one in the other. "You wanna hear something funny, Squirrel?"

"Yeah, go on." Quirrell turned to his best friend, the butterflies never ceasing after all of these years.

"When I was younger, after you first got your job, I..." He coughed nervously. "I used to be a bit of a douche and write my own version of this song."

Quirrell blinked. "You know what? So did I!"

After a high five was exchanged, they both sang quite cheerfully to the song, jokingly singing each other's name in the chorus. Everything was going well until it got to the final chorus. Because then, they sang it accidentally exactly the same way they did so very long ago. Because they had never ever forgotten that day.

"When I say... Quirrell"  
"Tommy!"  
"Baby..."

Quirrell turned to Voldemort with a look of confusion on his face. That had sounded too familiar... too perfect.

"Voldy...?"

They both stopped singing, and Toby stopped dancing, looking from his daddy to his uncle and back again.

Swallowing, Voldemort spoke. "You say you wrote stuff too-"

"Yeah, I played in on the piano sometimes." Quirrell's breath quickened. Any second now, he would start hyperventilating.

"Did it say... something al.. along the lines of- Something like 'Me lying in bed, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange, not me... your heart falling and miss-missing that beautiful Dark Lord'...?" Voldemort recalled the bits of the verse he could remember, his voice cracking, his heart pounding against his rib-cage.

Quirrell gasped. "How did yo-" His eyes grew wide in the realization. "'You're... you're that voice- 'He's beautiful, smart, kind and cool, and I never want to see him shout or cry ever again, unless it's my name obviously.'"

A weird laugh escaped from Voldemort as tears fell. "Y-yeah."

The fist went into Quirrell's mouth, and his other hand up to the hair he still owned after all of these years. "I thought you were a figment of my imagination!" He sobbed through the fist.

"I looked in there, I couldn't see anyone!" His voice rose to a shot, hoping, praying it wasn't true.

"I'd borrowed the cloak off Harry." He starting laughing hysterically. "All this time... I should have waited."

A shaky hand placed itself on Quirrell's cheek, wiping the tears away. Voldemort allowed his fingers to stroke the skin below his eyes, the wrinkles and the age spots. They were old hands, age had taken their toll, but their feelings were unaffected by age. They were soul-mates after all. Quirrell raised his own hand to cover Voldemort's staring into his eyes. Maybe, just maybe...

"OK guys, dinner will be ready s-" Both the girlfriend and the husband walked into the room and stopped at the two boys being so close. Both boys turned and saw the way their spouse looked at them, how the other's spouse looked at his best friend.

Both friends dodged away from each other. They looked at each other from a distance. That was the exact moment both their hearts broke in two.

"I-I have to go. T-Toby, stay with Mommy." Voldemort said, shaking uncontrollably, before disapparating with a pop.

"V-Voldy..." Quirrell muttered, staring at the spot his friend had been a few seconds ago, before running upstairs and locking the door. Collapsing on the bed, Quirrell grabbed the turban he had kept after all this time, reminders of the good times, when Voldemort really was his. "Why why why Wizard God why the fuck did you do this to me, to us?" He muttered over and over again. He curled up in a ball, his head buried in the pillow, his shoulders shaking with the tears. One hand was placed on his stomach while ached with an intense unbearable pain, because he knew he'd never be whole again.

Voldemort had apparated at the graveyard, that place where he had danced with his best friend for the first time. It was also the place where he had betrayed his best friend, and for that he would always hate himself. Collapsing against the cauldron, still there but old and rusted, he stared into the contents. It had a part of him, but it also had a part of Quirrell. A finger poked out and touched the liquid. He couldn't hold it anymore.

He screamed, a giant, piercing scream, equivalent of nails down a chalkboard. The scream of a man torn apart by heartbreak.

"You fucking bastard Quirrell! Why didn't you wait for me?! Why couldn't you be mine, why why fucking why?" He toppled the contents and collapsed to his knees, sobbing into the ground and pounding it with his fists. "I'm so so sorry, Quirrell.." He muttered, mentally falling apart.

Both boys had fallen apart, because now they both knew what they did to the other. And it was too late.


End file.
